


Roommate Roundup

by DerWille



Category: Original Work
Genre: ABDL, Age Play, Cuckolding, Diapers, Domination, Emasculation, Embarrassment, Humiliation, Infantilism, M/M, Omorashi, Public Humiliation, Shameless Smut, Wetting, literally just porn, mentions of messing, slight voyeurism/exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 20:23:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17008593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DerWille/pseuds/DerWille
Summary: It started out as a joke. After getting tired of my roommate Eric’s irresponsibility and poor bathroom hygiene, I bought him a pack of adult diapers to drive home the point that he was acting like a 2 year old. Never paying rent on time, never cleaning up after himself, pissing all over the toilet. He awkwardly laughed when I showed him and promised to do better.





	1. The Set Up

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally just smut. I have a few more chapters planned out.

It started out as a joke. After getting tired of my roommate Eric’s irresponsibility and poor bathroom hygiene, I bought him a pack of adult diapers to drive home the point that he was acting like a 2 year old. Never paying rent on time, never cleaning up after himself, pissing all over the toilet. He awkwardly laughed when I showed him and promised to do better. 

Unfortunately for him, better never happened. It’s been 3 months of diaper treatment so far and our relationship is now very different. It was a hassle to get him to this point. So many arguments and complaints and tears, but he finally knows who’s in charge now. And I am entirely in charge. I have some kind of magical control over him, or at least it seems that way. Most other guys would have found a new place to stay, but not Eric. I think he has some deep need to be controlled and told what to do, even if he hates it. 

He’s in his diapers 24/7 now. It was a struggle getting him in them at first, but once I threatened to tell his girlfriend about his issues he was much more cooperative. I would diaper him up for increasingly long periods of time and make him tell me when he had to “potty.” Then I would take him to the bathroom and supervise as he went to make sure everything was clean and orderly. It was so embarrassing for him to reluctantly shuffle up to me throughout the day, and ask if I could take him to the potty. Sometimes I’d pretend not to hear him and I would make him ask over and over again. He turns beet red when I showered him with praise for “going potty like a big boy!” He almost didn’t look at me for an hour after I wiped him the first time (after a long lecture of why he couldn’t do a good enough job himself). I then started to spend some time making sure his bottom was clean every time I diapered him. There’s really no better way to humiliate someone than giving them a cursory wipe down with their legs in the air above their head while you chide them to try and stay clean.

Eventually, in order to “potty train” him, I started making him wait after asking me to take him to the bathroom. At first it was only 10 minutes. I’d tell him to show me what a big, responsible boy he was by keeping his diaper all clean for a few minutes. I increased the time I would wait to take him in increments of 5 minutes everyday. It was all part of his regimen, I’d say. He lasted until about the 7th day. 

I remember it too well. He said he had to pee and I told him that big boys can hold it for a little while longer. He kind of whined, but he was used to this by now, and simply went back to looking at his phone. Every so often he would glance up at me and adjust his position on our couch. He knew better than to ask again. After about 40 minutes he got up and started shifting his weight from one foot to the other. I lazily looked up from my book at the show he was about to put on. 

He tried to grab his crotch but the thick diaper under his sweatpants prevented him from effectively sealing his bladder. He let out a quiet gasp as he began wetting himself helplessly. I stared at him the entire time, while he could only look at the ground. I could hear the hiss of his bladder emptying into his ever more sodden diaper. After he was finished, he slowly brought his eyes up to mine. He was a bit tearful and quite red. He stammered out a few excuses, but I wasn’t buying that. I berated him for wetting himself like a toddler. I told him how pathetic it was that he couldn’t even go forty minutes without wetting himself, how embarrassing it was to me that my roommate needed someone to manage his bathroom habits for him. 

He seemed shocked into submission when I told him that he could just leave that piss-drenched diaper on for a little while. Maybe sitting in a cold diaper would help him learn how to control his bladder more like an adult. He began to sit down on the couch before I told him that he wasn’t allowed on my furniture if he was going to wet himself so badly, and that the floor would be a better place for him. He accepted that proposal rather quickly, and gingerly sat down on the carpet. He grimaced as the liquid in his diaper squelched around his butt and genitals. 

I changed him into a new diaper after about an hour, the whole time telling him what a smelly baby he was and how irritating it was to have to wipe the urine off of my adult roommate’s butt. After that, I made sure to remove the option of him using the toilet entirely, even if he wasn’t aware of that. In his mind, he was just a stupid toddler who couldn’t hold it until it was potty time. That was right where I wanted him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More domination/humiliation and masturbation control.

Of course, it didn’t take long for his girlfriend to leave him. She said she lost all interest in him after she caught him in a wet diaper. That’s partly my fault, as I told him he wasn’t allowed to change himself without permission from me, and I often don’t give permission. I’m a pretty busy guy and can’t be at some adult toddler’s beck and call all day. Besides, the more uncomfortable he is the better behaved he seems to be. 

He came to me almost crying after the breakup. I softly patted his back as his sniffles turned into sobs, and told him that his girlfriend was right; he was no longer a viable partner. Who wants to check their boyfriend’s pants every 30 minutes to make sure they’re staying dry? He wasn’t mature enough for a relationship. I told him that we’d have to put his potty retraining on hold until I felt he was in a better emotional state. 

At this time, I introduced a few new rules. He was no longer allowed to change himself, even if I wasn’t there to do it. He’d have to ask for me to change him and then just wait and stew in his diaper until I got around to dealing with it. He was forbidden from touching his diaper. He was also no longer allowed to masturbate unless I gave him permission. 

I remember this being a particular turning point in my control over him. Without a girlfriend to relieve his sexual urges, and no release from masturbation, he was at my mercy. I told him that he could ask once a week to be able to touch himself. If I granted his request, I would untape his diaper and have him jerk off in front of me in the living room. He was such a desperate mess back then that one time a week seemed unbearable, so I made him an offer. He could masturbate as much as he wants to without permission or supervision if he keeps the diaper on and does not touch his diaper area with his hands. 

He enjoyed the privilege so much that I decided to make the requirements a bit more strict. All of the previous rules applied, but he could only masturbate if his diaper were wet. This caused a huge headfuck for Eric. He had a dilemma where he could try and get out of the hated wet diaper or have to sit in it longer, marinate in it, while also getting off. It was a real pleasure to watch him eventually soak his diaper and go back and forth on whether to ask for a change or whether to skulk off to his bedroom to hump the bed or the floor. 

He especially hated when I would follow him into his room, drawn to the sound of a rhythmic crinkle as he desperately thrust his clammy crotch against some pillows. I’d ask him if he wanted his diaper changed and he’d want to finish so badly that he would refuse a change. After a few minutes of furious grinding through his wet diaper, he’d finish and then ask for me to please please please change him, that it was cold and gross and itchy. Of course, I’d tell him that I just asked and he didn’t seem interested. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying that wet diaper so much that I would do him a favor and let him wear it for a few more hours. He’d often spend the rest of the day soaking in his cum and cooling urine. I’d often comment on his odor as an example of his poor hygiene, and double down on the necessity for him to rely on me for these things. He obviously couldn’t do it himself. I had him exactly where I wanted him.


	3. Chapter 3

Seeing him so down in the dumps after his girlfriend left made me decide that what he needed was some new social activity and relationships. I started taking him out around town to various stores and restaurants. He was terrified of being in diapers around strangers. I thought the idea was magnificent. He’d get very quiet when we’d pass by other people. Unfortunately for him, this just made his diaper’s crinkle more noticeable. No matter what he did, Eric could not escape the crinkle that accompanied him. He could always feel the thick padding between his legs as he’d waddle around beside me.

The best part of our outings were when he had to actually use his diaper in public. I remember the first time very well. We were in a relatively busy mall and he had been fidgeting for a while now. We were in the middle of a conversation with a saleswoman when he turned very red and stopped engaging with the conversation. He filled his pants right there in front of everyone. Now, of course, it takes a keen eye for this sort of thing to be noticeable to those not in the know. So I helped him along, apologizing to the woman and telling her that he just gets shy when he’s wearing a wet diaper. He audibly gasped and the color drained from his face as I disclosed his smelly status to this near stranger. She merely nodded and told him that she hopes he feels better soon, before continuing on about what shoes they had in stock. I forced him to stand there for another 5 minutes until I ended the conversation. 

As we were walking to a different store, he carefully waddled up to me and asked to go back home. I played oblivious as to why he would want to leave. He whispered that he wanted to be changed, but the noise in the mall was so loud that I just couldn’t seem to hear him. After multiple attempts and responses to “be louder,” I exclaimed in an exaggerated voice that he must need a dry diaper! He looked around nervously at my lack of discretion. I continued in my elevated tone that it smells like someone needs a diaper change. I told him that we could either change him in the bathroom or we could continue shopping. He pleadingly begged me to take him home. I pretended not hear, further commenting on how it smelled like a wet baby around here, and that if I could smell it, surely everyone else could too. That may have been a lie, but Eric wasn’t thinking in his agitated state. 

He finally agreed to come with me to the bathroom, if only to stop my ever louder comments about his diaper. He waddled behind me into the men’s restroom. I threatened to change him on the baby changing station, but he said he wouldn’t fit. I then offered to change him right in the middle of the bathroom where everyone could see. Alas, I had some pity for him by now and brought him into an accessible stall that had enough room for him to lay down. I had him take the changing supplies from the bag I make him carry and arrange them on the floor, and then had him lay down onto his small changing mat.

As I was unbuttoning his jeans, we heard a few guys come in. They heard the loud tear of the tapes as I opened up his diaper. Poor Eric had never felt so exposed before, even though these strange men couldn’t see him. So I decided to up the ante by loudly cooing to him as though he were my infant son. I told him what a stinky baby he was and how I hoped he would potty train soon! I counted each wipe I used on him in a sing-song voice. I melodramatically gave him directions to lift his legs while I put a new diaper under his bottom. I exclaimed “powder time!” as I gently applied baby powder to his crotch. With an “all done, who’s my big boy,” I christened him officially changed. One of the men who had been listening to the whole affair said that he knows all about that struggle because of his own kids, and “don’t give up, kiddo! You’ll get this potty thing in no time!” Eric was white as a sheet the entire interaction. We heard the men leave and then we came out of the stall. Unfortunately for Eric, there was a very quiet man still at the urinal who had heard the entire thing. When he saw no toddler, he made brief, uncomfortable eye contact with Eric and wrinkled his face in disgust. We washed our hands quickly and left the restroom. 

I love going out in public. You never know what you’ll come across!


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine. Eric would act out sometimes or throw a tantrum. He was so confused for so long about his role and his inability to leave our arrangement. Deep down I’m pretty sure that he needed someone to control his life in this way. Unfortunately for him, he would forget sometimes. At first, he often forgot. It was my job, then, to remind him and set him on the right path. 

Punishment started out, simply enough, by fitting the crime. Using disrespectful language resulted in a drawn-out mouth-soaping. The first time I had him suck on a bar of soap for ten minutes was a hoot. I forbid him from removing it from his mouth. He could only whine as the suds bubbled out from between his lips and milky drool stained the front of his shirt. Of course, I had to add a bunch of teasing about what a naughty boy he was to use such language, and how maybe he needed to wear a bib if he was going to be making messes all over his clothes.

Touching his diaper led to him spending a few hours in his restraining mittens. If he felt trapped before, he felt downright helpless in these things. Sometimes he’d be in them and I’d get to spoon feed him because he couldn’t feed himself. I’d make sure to make a mess and then comment on what a messy, silly toddler he was, who had to have someone else help him eat and wash his face for him. When I did get to feed him, I’d make sure to only give him his favorites. Except I’d put them through the food processor first and make sure they were a delightful goopy texture. Sometimes I’d add a random vegetable that I had in the fridge. Eric needs his vegetables to grow up big and strong! Who could resist puréed macaroni and cheese with a mixture of carrot paste? I’d always be sure to make enough to serve him seconds, or even thirds! His belly would bulge out and he’d complain about how full he was, but I was just making sure Eric got enough nutrients! 

When I caught him breaking the masturbation rules, the most fitting solution was chastity. His penis looked so tiny and useless all locked up. I still let him grind against the floor or his bed during chastity. In fact, I sometimes encouraged it. He’d get so frustrated trying to feel any sensation through his wet diaper and cage. His eyes would get this determined look as he’d start out, and after a few minutes of fruitless thrusts, he’d get almost morose and hopeless. There was no way he’d be able to pleasure himself through such impeding barriers, and eventually he’d realize that he’s just grinding the smell of his own urine into his skin, just flopping around in his own piss, with absolutely no possibility of pleasure. 

A particularly devious punishment I came up with involving his masturbation habits came to mind after he had been particularly insistent one day in asking for a fresh diaper. You see, he hated having a messy diaper and would do almost anything to get out of it. It was basically the dramatic highlight of each day. Tired of his endless whining, I told him that he could remain in chastity and his messy diaper for at least two hours after he soiled himself, or, in the future he wouldn’t have to wear the chastity cage, but he wouldn’t get changed out of a messy diaper until he masturbated to completion in it. It was either a two hour wait and no sexual pleasure, or a potentially small wait and an orgasm. 

He chose option two almost immediately and began humping his bed. He shivered in disgust and humiliation as he thrust back and forth feeling some of his mess get displaced and shift around in his diaper. He quickly realized that his feeling of absolute disgust was so overwhelming that he was getting absolutely no pleasure from his demeaning activity. He finally gave up after a few minutes. The only thing he accomplished was spreading his mess all over himself. I had him stay in his room for the next two hours until I decided it was time for him to get changed and take a shower.

Aren’t choices fun?


	5. Chapter 5

About a week ago, I invited Eric’s ex-girlfriend over for dinner so she could see the progress he had been making. I knew he must really have wanted to see her too. He was so sad and horny all the time! I decided not to tell him because I thought maybe a surprise would cheer him up.

He was in the middle of pleading for me to change him out of his cold, soggy diaper when the doorbell rang. He reflexively headed off to his room to avoid being seen by whoever was at the door. I opened the door to be greeted by Eric’s ex, Sandra, and a man that I hadn’t met before. She quickly introduced him to me as Jeff, her new boyfriend. He was a few inches taller than Eric and noticeably more muscular. 

We all chatted for a few minutes before I led them into the living room to sit down. After a few more minutes of talking about how they had got together, Jeff mentioned that our apartment kind of reminded him of his toddler nephew’s room. I replied that it was probably the smell before calling out for Eric to come and join us. 

He waddled in reluctantly before realizing who was here. He froze like a deer in headlights, his thick, wet diaper puffing out conspicuously under his sweatpants. I told him he was being rude and motioned for him to sit down on the floor next to the couch. He made a face as he squished down onto his butt, taking a risky glance up towards the rest of us to see is we had noticed the state of his diaper (which, of course, we had).

Jeff’s eyes went wide in shock before an amused, and devious, grin appeared on his face. He teasingly asked who this big boy was, while Sandra rolled her eyes at the pathetic sight in front of her. Then she started complaining about this “diaper thing” that Eric was still so obviously into, and explaining how it was the cause of their breakup. Eric had no retort and just sat quietly looking down at the floor, while trying not to cry.

I thought I’d get more acquainted with the two lovers through a group activity. So I asked if they wanted to help me change Eric’s diaper. He immediately started to beg and plead for me not to change him, or at least to do it in private. I told him that he’d been whining for a change for the last hour, and that everyone here was open minded enough to indulge his “alternative lifestyle.” 

Jeff jumped at the opportunity, but Sandra just put her head in her hands, exasperated and disgusted with her former boyfriend. I had Jeff lay Eric down in the middle of the living room while I went to get the supplies. When I came back, Jeff had already got Eric on his back and had pulled his sweatpants down to his ankles. Jeff said he was well practiced at diaper duty due to his young nephew. I told him to take the lead, that I was kind of tired of attending to the needs of an adult toddler all day. 

Jeff wasted no time in peeling the tapes away from Eric’s sodden crotch. When he opened up the wet diaper I praised Eric for being my big boy and not making any “stinkies.” Eric covered his crying face with his hands, unable to even comprehend the amount of humiliation he was experiencing right now. I helped hold his legs up for Jeff to wipe him down with some baby wipes. Jeff really wanted to make this change as long and all encompassing as possible, so he noted that it seemed like Eric was getting a rash. I told him it was likely, as he hadn’t used the toilet in months and mostly sat around in his own waste every day. Jeff took ample time carefully applying rash cream to Eric’s entire diaper area. He took a scoop of Vaseline with two fingers and slowly spread it in between Eric’s cheeks, not shying away from anything. He said he wanted his “little buddy” to be well protected.

After all the accoutrements were applied, Jeff taped the new diaper on Eric, and praised him for being a “good boy.” He then took Eric’s sweats off and put them aside, saying he wouldn’t need them. Eric stood up but couldn’t choose what to cover between his red face and his poofy, white diaper. Ultimately, he decided that looking at the ground was an acceptable position.

After all the commotion I decided it was about time to eat. I had prepared a modest meal of baked cod and greens for dinner. Everyone sat around the kitchen table as I served the meal. For Eric, though, I put his food through the food processor, turning it into a greenish grey paste. I had Jeff put Eric’s bib on and told him he could help feed the baby, if he was so inclined. Eric spent most of the meal trying to keep up with the aggressive feeding pace of Jeff, and Jeff wasn’t trying to make it easy. Eric ended the meal with half of his babified meal on his face and bin. Good thing he was wearing it!

The rest of the evening was spent engaging in conversation, with Eric having little or nothing to say. He kept trying to steal glances at Sandra, especially when the couple started talking about their sex life. Sandra was so relieved to finally find a man that could keep up with her. She said she was tired of dating “little boys” who finish in ten seconds and roll over asleep. Eric was enthralled with her breasts, and his hand almost came close to pawing at his diaper a few times.

Jeff must have noticed this as well, because he asked to talk with Eric alone in the bathroom. Eric was hesitant, but I gave him a stern look that said he’d better be respectful of our guest. They both walked into the bathroom, and Jeff shut the door. It was hard to hear what was going on, but I could make out the sound of Eric whimpering. After a few moments they came back out. The back of Eric’s exposed diaper, which had previously been dry, was now saturated with a pale yellow sag that encompassed his entire bottom and between his legs, cupping his genitals. He didn’t dare to make eye contact with anyone. He carefully stepped over to Sandra, while Jeff whispered something in her ear. She rolled her eyes at whatever Jeff was saying, before sighing and exclaiming “fine.” 

Eric looked at me and asked if he could have permission to hump Sandra’s leg, that both Jeff and Sandra were ok with it. I asked him about the strange wetting pattern on his diaper, when Jeff jumped in and said he had had to pee but didn’t want to miss a bonding opportunity with his “little guy.” In the end I allowed Eric to awkwardly get on his knees and run Jeff’s piss into his crotch as he ground in to Sandra’s leg. No one spoke as the broken young man wearing a diaper that wasn’t even wet with his own piss humped away fruitlessly at the leg of his ex girlfriend who was amused but also disgusted at the pathetic excuse of a man. All three adults just stared down at Eric in silence as he hopelessly tried to cum. His diaper squishing and crinkling was the only sound. 

After about a minute, Sandra shook him off of her like one would a poorly trained dog, saying that he never took longer than this before. Eric fell back onto his soggy diaper, feeling Jeff’s urine escape a bit and cover his own manhood, which needed desperate relief. Sandra and Jeff thanked me for the evening, saying that we’ll have to do this again sometime, before leaving and shutting the door behind them. 

Eric made the mistake of touching his diaper, trying to maintain any level of friction to finally get off. What a naughty boy! I put him in the locking mittens and sent him to bed in the diaper that Jeff wet. 

I didn’t get around to changing him until lunch the next afternoon, dooming him to spend the night and next morning wallowing in the piss of the real man who was now sleeping with his ex.


	6. Chapter 6

Lately, I’ve decided that Eric has too much privacy and that it’s not conducive to improving his behavior. So I’ve been having him post some journal entries to a public blog. You know, just about what it’s like to be so pathetic and gross all the time. I figure having him share his innermost thoughts and experiences would help him come to terms with his station in life. I also just wanted to teach him that he deserves no privacy, not even his thoughts. He journals a lot nowadays, mostly when I send him to his room to wait for me to feel like changing his diaper. I thought it would be fun to share some of his blog entries with everyone here! 

*********************************************************************************************************

Wednesday 9:27am

“It’s 9:30 on a Wednesday morning and I’m waiting for Mark to decide to change me into a dry diaper. I absolutely hate how this whole thing has turned out, but I have no idea how to get out of this situation with him. I hate how I’m seemingly unable to talk with him about it. I hate how much control he has over me. I hate that I feel like I have to have him control me and tell me what to do. It feels kind of … relieving? To have someone take such a large degree of control over your day to day life, I mean. I just wish he would do it in a different way.

I used to be a top student in college. I was highly organized and methodical, orderly almost to a fault. Before this whole thing with Mark started, I was kind of in a slump and got behind on rent and the housework. Now I feel completely stuck. Every day is a new humiliation. Take right now, for instance. I’m wearing this diaper soaked with my own urine from the last twelve hours. I don’t even really try to hold it anymore. Mark refuses to regularly change me (I don’t even know why I need someone to change me like a helpless baby, I just can’t seem to do it myself) in order to prevent me from waiting to use my diaper right before a change. It’s not unusual for me to sit in my wet diaper for twelve or more hours. Today, it’s cold and soggy and it itches something terrible. I can’t seem to get the smell of old pee out of my clothes. Mark rarely lets me shower. He says it has a “negative effect” on my “behavioral issues,” whatever that means. It’s hard to feel good about yourself when you’re almost constantly sitting in your own waste. I just want a break from the smell. It’s humiliating, especially when he teases me about being a “stinky little guy.” I hate this. 

Actually, it sounds like he’s up finally. Should I go ask for a change? Sometimes that seems to make him wait longer to change me, but I’m desperate. I’ll be forced to write again soon.

Bye-bye from Little Eric (he makes me end this way).”

*******************************************************************************************************

Pretty cute, right? I keep telling him that if he doesn’t write enough I’ll start posting his entries to his Facebook page! I wonder what his friends would think? 

Oh! This is a good one from a few days ago!

**********************************************************************************************************  
Friday 2:47PM

“I don’t know what to do, I hate this feeling. I’m in a messy diaper and I hate it. I can’t help ending up like this at least once a day. Who knows what Mark puts in my food when he spoon feeds me? It’s absolutely terrible, sitting in my own mess. I try not to move around too much, but the sensation is inescapable. There is nothing more morale shattering than this. I feel helpless and dumb and so dirty I want to scream. In the past, Mark has been reluctant about changing me when I’m emotional, so I have to work to appear really calm and cool and collected. I think it has the opposite effect sometimes! He’s mentioned how happy and comfortable I seem when in a dirty diaper! I can’t win. There’s no way out of this. He makes me stay in my room to avoid the smell. He promised me this time that I could get a change if I write a really good blog post describing my experience in detail. Might as well try.

I feel sick with worry thinking about the possibility of him sharing these things with people that I know. I mean, yeah, it’s already public, but I don’t know if anyone even reads blogs anymore. Or maybe they think it’s a fantasy or fiction? Whatever. I’ll do anything for a change.

I feel so dirty. I know now why babies cry when they need to be changed. The mess covers my bottom and moves around in my diaper when I do. It feels like the diaper is stuck to my butt, and so if I stand up and move around it slowly becomes unstuck and squelches around between my legs. I try not to move much, but the alternative is to sit down and squish my mess all over me. There’s no way to win. The smell is inescapable. I end up standing silently in the corner of my room. I look like a guilty toddler trying to get away with something, especially if I were to gingerly waddle around the house. 

Mark has come up with a bunch of ways to tease and humiliate me during these times. He’ll make me gather all of my diapering supplies in the living room and then have me lay down waiting to be changed. Except he sometimes has no intention of doing that right away, so I lay in my messy diaper on the floor like a toddler, sometimes for a long time. He just ignores me, like, literally refuses to pay attention to me. He’ll scroll this his phone, completely oblivious to my presence. It feels like I don’t exist. If it weren’t for the terrible feelings in my diaper, I would seriously doubt if I were actually real or not. Sometimes, I’ll beg for him to change me, to the point of tears even. He just pretends not to hear me. Hours may go by until he decides it’s time to change his “little stinky guy.” Then he acts surprised to find me in a messy diaper, and chides me on when I’m going to learn how to use the toilet! 

Sometimes he doesn’t clean me very well, almost guaranteeing that I’ll develop a new rash. Other times he’s almost obsessive with how much attention he pays to my diaper area. I’m terribly ashamed to be splayed out in the open for anyone to see. I have no expectations of privacy anymore. The thing I’m most ashamed of, though, is that these changing times are the closest thing I get to sexual satisfaction, even if that’s the last thing on my mind with the stench wafting through the air around me. It’s almost titillating to have someone wipe me down with a cold wet wipe. It’s basically the only time anyone is paying attention to my privates. Besides, it’s almost impossible to masturbate through a thick diaper, especially if it’s dirty, or I have the dreaded chastity cage on. I’m completely desperate to get off. If Mark just spent a little while longer cleaning my dick, or fuck, even my ass, I’d probably shoot all over him. The humiliation would be worth it. Oh shit, I hear him calling for me now! Maybe I’ll finally get changed?

Bye-bye from ‘Stinky’ Little Eric”

***********************************************************************************************************

That’s one of my favorites! What a pervert, almost getting off from a diaper change! Maybe I should post it to his Facebook? His friends and family have a right to know how disgusting he is! I’ll have to prolong the changes now. Just handsy enough to get Eric going, but chaste enough to leave him wanting more. Maybe he’ll start humping his wet diapers again!

Aren’t I a considerate roommate?


	7. Chapter 7

I’ve been feeling for poor Eric recently. After reading through his blog I’ve come to understand how lonely and distressed he is. I’m getting kind of bored with the whole thing, but I wanted to get him together with his friends and go out on a bar crawl or something. Maybe seeing them would help cheer him up? So I called a few of his college buddies and told them that Eric would love if they wanted to take him out on the town. They were thrilled! They hadn’t heard from Eric in so long. I mentioned to them that he was “into some kinky stuff” and needed their help in the matter if he was going to go out with them. They readily agreed.

I didn’t tell Eric that his friends were going to take him out until a few minutes before they arrived. He couldn’t figure out what to say, he was so happy! He even teared up a little. I felt pretty proud for coming up with the idea. Not to mention that he’d been wearing a wet diaper for a few hours now and I hadn’t gotten around to change him. What a good time for his friends to watch and help out!

Unfortunately, they were in a hurry to leave. Eric left the house with them with a cold diaper hugging his waist underneath his jeans. It bulged out and was kind of obvious, but bars are dark, right? People probably couldn’t tell the difference. I made him take his diaper bag (an old backpack) just in case. I also gave all of his friends my phone number and told them to text me throughout the night if they needed anything. I planned to stay in and enjoy a time without my toddler roommate. 

The first text arrived about an hour later.

FROM: AARON  
TO: MARK  
8:37PM  
“Hey! Just wanted to know if we’re supposed to play along with the whole “help me get away from Mark” thing? It kinda sounds like he’s not into this “game.” But that’s part of the game right? I don’t know why he likes it so much. It seems kind of gross to me, but whatever floats your boat, right?”

FROM: MARK  
TO: AARON  
8:53PM

“Yup! Just play along. He likes to be teased and humiliated. Maybe have him find some girl or something too? He’s been pretty “lonely” recently.”

FROM: CHARLIE  
TO: MARK  
9:33PM

“Yo, were supposed to not let him take the diaper off right?? He keeps complainging about it and seems pretty upset and embarrassed.”

FROM: MARK  
TO: CHARLIE  
9:41PM

“That’s right, don’t let him touch the diaper! He loves being embarrassed! He’s just kind of a brat about it sometimes. Thanks for understanding!”

FROM: AARON  
TO: MARK  
10:17PM

“HEeeyyyy so I found some girl that he thought was attractive and pointed him out to her. She came on over and brought him out to the dance floor, but he seemed like he didn’t really want to go. They started grinding on each other a bit before she looked down and there was a big wet stain on Eric’s crotch from his leaky diaper! She said something to him before storming away. I don’t know man, he looked absolutely destroyed! He’s back sitting down by us now. I don’t really want to be involved with diaper duty, ya know? Are you sure he can’t do it himself?”

FROM: MARK  
TO: AARON  
10:19PM

He’s not allowed to do it himself. I guess you don’t need to change him at all if you don’t want to. It may ruin your night out though. Get Charlie to do it?”  
FROM: CHARLIE  
TO: MARK  
10:31PM

“I just dragged Eric into the bathroom because people kept staring at his wet pants. I guess they think he’s drunk or something like that. I didn’t exactly change him, though. I’m not really interested in seeing him naked, so I just had him lay down in the public bathroom and put a new diaper over his wet one, even though he begged me to take it off. I’m all about following the rules though. He can’t zip up or button his jeans because his diapers are so thick, but at least maybe his pants will dry now. We’re still having a good time regardless!”

FROM: MARK  
TO: CHARLIE  
10:38PM

“Thanks for taking care of him! I don’t know if diapers work that way, but it can’t hurt, right?”

FROM: AARON  
TO: MARK  
10:56PM

“I think were gonna bring him home now. No one will serve him anymore and by extension, us. Everyone thinks he’s either really drunk or some kind of exhibitionist weirdo. The second diaper isn’t helping really, the first one still just leaks out the side into his jeans. Maybe we should’ve cut holes into it? I don’t know it doesn’t matter anymore. We’ll be back in about a half hour.”

FROM: MARK  
TO: AARON  
11:43PM

“Thanks for taking him out! I just got him into bed. You’re right, you probably should have cut some slots into the first diaper to drain into the second instead of leak down his legs. I just took a scissors and cut some quick slits and he sleeping in both diapers tonight. He says he never wants to go out again, but I think we both know he’s just being dramatic. I’ll make sure to have him more prepared for next time. Thanks again!”

And so that was that. Eric woke up the next day with an incredibly thick sodden mass between his legs and begged me to change him. As I was cleaning up his privates I asked if he liked that girl he got to grind with a little. He turned beet-red, but his little dick started growing, right there in front of me! I laughed at him and got the chastity cage out again. He started crying after he got the cage and his new diaper on, hopelessly humping the floor, searching for any possible sensation. 

I told him he got all the stimulation he was due for a while last night out at the bar. It’s not good for his behavior if he can just come whenever he wants.

I told him to look on the bright side. Who knows? Maybe in a month or two or five when I let him go out again he’ll find some girl that absolutely wants to grind on his squishy diapered crotch. There’s a world of possibilities out there!


	8. Chapter 8

Satuday 8:42am

“It’s me again. The last few months have only increasingly gotten worse. I’m writing this on Mark’s phone. He took mine away but let’s me use his to write these posts. I’m stuck in this baby-jumper thing that’s suspended from the ceiling. I can barely touch the ground with my feet. My diaper is pushed up against me with no way to escape the sensation of my own cold urine. 

Mark says that diapers are expensive and so he’s started to take measures to cut down on my usage. In the mornings, instead of changing me into a new diaper, he just flips it around so that the dry back of the diaper is over my front, while the soggy front is pressed against my butt. It feels pretty gross to sit in the soggy, bloated core of the diaper that I’d wet the previous night, especially in this bouncer. The diaper kind of rides up and the pressure from being held by the jumper forces some of the pee out and onto my skin. Yuck.

Of course, Mark is waiting until I mess myself, once again to cut down on diaper usage. It’s pretty predictable now, with my diet of soft foods. I kind of suspect Mark is putting laxatives in my food, but I’m not really in charge of what I eat anymore. I can feel my stomach gurgling. I jump up and down a little in the bouncer, trying to avoid the inevitable. Unfortunately, there’s not really anything I can do. I groan a little as I feel the mess starting to come out. There’s no room to push anything out being trapped with the seat of the bouncer being forced tightly into my crotch. I try and lift myself up to create more space, but I ultimately come crashing back down on the mess-in-progress. I’ll have to do this multiple times over the next twenty minutes until I’m done. Then it’s only a matter until Mark comes in to remark how “stinky” I am. 

Hopefully he changes me before lunch. 

Bye-bye from Stinky Litter Eric.”


	9. Chapter 9

Friday 11:25am

“I’m sorry I haven’t checked in for so long. The monotony of diapers and feedings and humiliations blur together into one big fucked up mess. I even think Mark may be starting to get tired of this. He ignores me most of the time, anyway. He’ll sit there on his phone as I waddle around the house, barely even looking up as I hopelessly try to avoid filling my diapers. It’s a losing battle at this point. There’s a particular shame in knowing that I’m so used to wearing my own waste that I don’t even try to fight it anymore. Holding it is painful and only delays the inevitable. 

He only acknowledges me when I cry or grunt or babble like a baby. It’s worse than having your words taken from you; voluntarily giving them up in order to get any positive attention is debasing to the core. I feel so complicit in my own domination. He just seems to have this power over me. I want him to like me so much, I want him to be proud of me. I feel good when he praises me for “being a big poopy boy,” and I feel mortified when he sneers in disgust at my droopy diapers. I long to be loved by him but he often seems repulsed by me. It’s very confusing.

Anyway, to switch it up a bit, Mark took me to a local park. He graciously allowed me to wear sweatpants, but they did almost nothing to hide the outline of the thick diaper between my legs. I crinkled around with him while the other park goers stared behind my back. I could feel their eyes. He sat me down on a swing and began pushing me. 

After a few minutes, a woman walked over to us to investigate this strange spectacle. She completely ignored me and asked Mark if I were “special.” He nodded in the affirmative at her in a very serious manner, and she praised him for being such a “patient” person. I was so embarrassed at having my humanity stripped away, at being the object of a conversation instead of a participant. 

Just as their chattering started to wrap up, I felt a deep pain in my stomach. I groaned quietly at the familiar feeling and looked around to see who was watching. Mark and the woman glanced at me. Mark said that I was making my “poopy face.” The woman nodded solemnly, trying to not betray her growing discomfort at the situation. I stood up off the swing and immediately began filling my pants. I tried not to make eye contact as I squatted down and forced the mess out, hoping to end this humiliation as quickly as possible. The relief of emptying myself quickly turned into the visceral discomfort of feeling my mess mash up against me; the shame of being seen performing such an act froze me in place. 

The woman almost seemed to take a step back. She could probably begin to smell me, or at least wanted to prevent that possibility. Mark “asked” me if I wanted to keep swinging. Not knowing what else to do, I got back up on the swing. I shuddered as I sat back onto my full diaper. The woman excused herself and walked away. 

Mark pushes me on the swing for another twenty minutes before announcing that we had to “take care of my stinky pants,” and walking me back home. It’s been a few hours since then as I’m writing this. He still hasn’t changed me. 

Please help.

Bye bye from Stinky Little Eric.”


End file.
